I Will Love You Til the End of Time
by AdventuresinMonsterLand
Summary: Ghoulia wasn't always a zombie. She had a normal human life, and a normal human love. Then, it was all gone and she can't even remember why she's so connected to the strange human boy that discovered her ambling through the forest. Conflicted by her instinct to kill him and her lingering memories of affection, she must fight to protect him from the other undead. (OC)


_**Sorry about not updating In the Land of Men and Monsters! I've been having serious writer's block, but yesterday I came up with this simple idea: Ghoulia's life before she was turned. In my head, she has a very tragic, beautiful story. It isn't going to be very long. Probably a couple more chapters, but her story demanded to be told. I hope you enjoy it! I'll try to update ITLOMAM soon!**_

I don't remember my life before it happened.

I remember the cold and the absence of breath, blood, and hunger. There was darkness and it stirred in the bleak silence of my mind. Everything was vacant and lost.

In the beginning there was pain, blinding, splintering, unforgiving; but then there was a numbness unlike anything I could have ever imagined. The virus overcame me and crippled my limbs. My body throbbed as I sank into the icy cold grip of death.

I couldn't remember how to speak or scream or even what words were. They were choppy and blocky and strange. The afterlife had erased all my memories and when I awoke, I was new.

My muscles ached, but then the discomfort disappeared. My tongue was sore and my gums stung. I cringed, feeling the pain scale down my throat.

When I opened my mouth, I groaned; there were no words, no thoughts, just unintelligible, blunt moans.

My fingers felt strange and detached from me as I stretched them, massaging them into the dirt below me.

Groaning, I heaved myself forward; the action was tiring and required every ounce of energy I could muster. On my knees, I blinked, taking everything in.

Great green and brown monsters towered around me; their long, rough limbs reached upward, as if they were climbing against the air.

_Trees_, a voice said.

The thought was inside of me, in my head. But the word was foreign and strange; I opened my mouth, but my tongue wouldn't comply and my lips couldn't form the letters.

A deep, shuddering breath came through the trees. It whistled in my ears and lifted the hair away from my shoulders.

_Wind_, the same voice said.

"Uuuhh," I tried.

My dry tongue licked my lips; the skin was sore and torn, raw.

There was a horrible tremble in the pit of my stomach; I felt it boil into the back of my throat and I moaned as the slick, acidic flavor spreads over my tastebuds.

I spit, feeling the same liquid secrete through my nose.

_Hunger. You're hungry._

I shook my head, blocking my ears.

I suddenly became aware of my senses:

Smell; the breeze filled my nostrils with a fresh, clean scent. Beneath the scent of leaves and earth, there was something else, something strong and almost rank.

Taste; my mouth pooled with saliva; it traced down my chin and neck and into the collar of my shirt.

Touch; a ripping sensation gripped my stomach and it propelled me onto my feet. Thirst and hunger became one and I ambled through the trees in search of sustenance, of the metallic scent that lingered in the air.

I was lead by blind hunger; I followed the smell deeper into the trees, where they were darker and meaner with the absence of light.

The smell was everywhere now, like a thick perfume.

On the floor, dripping red, was death. A small, frail creature shivering with the last traces of life. I could smell every nerve as they died, taste the soft incense of blood. My stomach quivered.

Before I could think, I was overcome by a frenzy; I was blind and I all I could do was taste, taste the blood as it poured down my throat; taste the sinew as it tore against my teeth and the bones as they broke against my bite. I chomped into the chewy muscles, pulling them away from the skeleton. I clutched at the small animal and buried my face in the stomach, letting the organs and tissue slip in-between my teeth.

Euphoria danced along my veins and I felt renewed strength.

There was a crack, the sharp break of branch.

I looked up, away from the carcass.

Standing a few feet away was a person. A boy, my mind recalled. He was tall and had amber hair; his face was pale and his eyes were wide, his mouth pulled to the side.

"Lia?" he gasped; his voice was constricted but rich.

I blinked.

Lia. The word familiar and almost deeply personal.

"Lia?" he repeated, stepping closer towards me.

My instincts told me lunge, to taste, to feed, to breathe in the smell of his screams and fear. But something stronger called to me, something warm and tingling. It told me to wait, to listen, to keep him safe.

I stood on wobbly knees, cocking my head.

"Lia, it's me, Paul," he said.

I could understand his words and I was filled with uneasiness.

My mind was bringing back memories, pulling them from the dredges of eternal sleep.

Paul. Paul. Paul. Paul.

His name burned brightly in my brain; it became every thought, ringing out like the sharp cry of a firework.

"Puhh," I blurted.

Lia. My name had been Lia before I'd died.

He winced and I noticed his pale green eyes. Something about them, the shape, the color, the curve of his eyebrows, was comforting and beautiful. They felt completely safe and staring into them then, I knew that I could stare into them forever.

"Pauluh," I forced.

He frowned.

"What happened to you?" he asked.

I looked at my hands, stained red with blood. It was already beginning to dry brown under my fingernails. What had happened?

I had died, I was fairly certain of that. But how, I wasn't sure.

I moaned and looked at him confusedly.

"Ueh," I muttered, holding out my hands.

"What's wrong," he asked, coming closer. "Why aren't you talking?"

I shook my head.

He was a foot away, deciding whether or not to approach me any closer.

"You were eating that rabbit, Lia," he said. "You're covered in it's blood."

I suddenly felt uncomfortable; I folded my arms across my chest and whimpered something quietly. My white shirt was smeared scarlet and brown; my fishnet sleeves were torn and stretched.

His breath is deep and heavy as he tried to compose himself.

"What happened to you, Lia," he repeated, this time touching my face. When his fingers graze my cheeks, he stops. "You're so cold."

I couldn't feel the cold, I couldn't feel his warmth either. His finger slid down my neck and he held it there, pulling me closer to him. His chest moved against mine, the thin material of his ruined shirt the only barrier between us.

I could feel his pulse in my throat, taste every beat of fervent heart on the tip of my tongue, but I didn't move. I was scared, terrified that I would hurt him.

His eyes welled with tears and his lips pouted unwillingly as he brushed away his urge to cry.

He wiped his eyes and took my hand.

"We have to get out of here," he said. "I have to get you to a hospital."

"Ueeeh," I groaned as he tugged me forward.

He stopped and looked at me, hard.

"Lia? Lia, what's the matter?"

His voice was distant and nothing more than a whisper, although I knew he was yelling. Through the faded light, I could see him screaming at me, hovering over me and touching my face, but I didn't know what was happening. It was as if I were drifting, breaking the surface of the ocean before sinking back into the rough water. Something hot boiled inside of me, rupturing in my stomach and leaking into my brain. I felt it fill the back of my throat before flowing from my open mouth.

I was vomiting, the blood and viscera of the rabbit.

It felt wrong, as if my body and my mind were conflicting; my body tried to hold onto it, but my mind rejected the meat, the food.

Paul turned me onto my stomach and pulled back my hair.

I saw stars, twinkling dimly behind my eyelids.


End file.
